


Blind

by bara99



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 06:21:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2259228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bara99/pseuds/bara99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Far beyond licking each other's wounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saegusaibara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saegusaibara/gifts).



The dawn settled into a grainy film of bluish grey. The day would be cloudy and morose, as it had been for the past week. Hanamiya leaned against the railing, his arm dangling over the edge, fingers in a loose fist. It was cold, far too cold for a plain t-shirt and boxers. He felt numb and out of place in a city awakening with a slew of bright lights. Even the balcony in which he stood seemed overly pristine without a speck of the grime he felt drowned him every bleary eyed morning. His thick and long dark hair stuck to his scalp in a sweaty mess despite the dip in temperature and his pale, sober complexion. His thighs streaked with a dried, ruddy brown and sore throat that seemed to freely tear with every raspy breath were lone reminders of a grief known to Hanamiya alone.

In his mind, he pictured leaning too far over into the bustling street below and the lurch in his stomach as his body gave way to gravity. How splendid the bright red decorating his oozing skull and bruised flesh! And how brilliant the sound of retribution all around him, as his blood darkened to black and he would appear as if a demon wallowing in sorrow! Hanamiya knew all too well that the reality was not so far away.

The sky grew uncomfortably bright. However stormy and brooding the clouds seemed, the light blinded him and he withdrew indoors. No longer able to venture beyond the confines of the dimly lit studio, he resolved to soak in the bath. Lukewarm water seared the ragged welts across his back and buttocks, as if made anew, and he cried out. Blood and pus oozed freely and tinted the world around him a sickly rose.

Violent images of the night before terrorized him in a delirious heat, and lifted Hanamiya from the bath multiple times only to have his bruises worsen with every worrying fall. He lifted shaking hands to his neck and curled willing fingers tight in a fit of rage. The moment was fleeting. Broad shoulders casted a faint shadow as strong arms dragged him out and through the studio, a trail of pale red marking the path.

“Touch me,” he breathed, forcing a pain stricken smile as urine pooled onto the black tile and he grew erect. Unable to grasp let alone see the man in front of him, Hanamiya walked little before greeting the familiar warmth of crushed cheeks. The rank smell protruded his nose and he gagged, vomit accompanying the liquid in darker tones. He felt a damp poke at his thighs and came almost immediately, abdomen now caked in a glistening white and unbearably hot.

Kiyoshi’s face betrayed little emotion as he tore into his lover, rough hands brutalizing the supple body beneath him relentlessly. Hanamiya’s breathing quickened as Kiyoshi sucked and played with hardening nipples creating small red puddles on his chest. His lower half reduced to a dull ache as if it lay far away. His vision blurred and he came consistently without knowing. As if to prevent Hanamiya from submission into the darkness that threatened to surround him completely, Kiyoshi clawed away the bandages covering his lover’s eyes and licked at the infection. His movements grew erratic as he finally climaxed and released his pleasure, simultaneously coating the tile in fresh crimson. 

“….Touch…..me….”

He had been reduced to nothing more than a fleshy mass yet he longed for what he did not know, arms dangling at his lover’s neck. Hanamiya did not have within him the capacity to fear death, for he had embraced it long ago, and it had turned away from him in disgust. Tears would not streak his face but instead simmer beneath eyes sewn shut, much like the anguish and guilt deep inside of him.

The real torture had barely begun.


End file.
